


Seasonal Solutions

by IvyCpher



Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: England (Hetalia) Cannot Cook, Established America/England (Hetalia), M/M, Recovery, Sad America (Hetalia), Seasonal Affective Disorder
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-16
Updated: 2019-03-16
Packaged: 2019-11-18 19:57:35
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,767
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18125798
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/IvyCpher/pseuds/IvyCpher
Summary: After waking to the first real snow of the winter, Arthur worries for Alfred’s state due to his seasonal depression. He takes the journey to visit him and to make sure that he is alright.





	Seasonal Solutions

**Author's Note:**

> This is for the UsUk Twice Per Year zine thingy! The theme was Recovery is Possible!!

Arthur knew that it would be starting soon, the crisp cool months of autumn had ended and the weather had started to become harsher and colder than ever. His love, Alfred had suffered from seasonal depression ever since he was a young nation; and who could blame him, he had suffered through many hard winters in his time.

When he woke up this morning, Arthur wasn't surprised to see an inch of snow on the ground, and it looked like it wasn't melting anytime soon.

Alfred had been showing his usual signs for a few weeks now: reluctance to leave his home, acting unemotional, and even eating less (Arthur always got extremely worried when Alfred ate less like he did this time of the year).

It wasn't even Thanksgiving yet and the first snow to stick was here, Arthur had really hoped that it would happen after Thanksgiving since it was one of Alfred’s favorite holidays.

Arthur sat at his kitchen table with a cup of tea in hand and he looked out the window to the snowy sidewalks below. With a soft sigh he removed his phone from his pocket to book a flight for New York that afternoon. If he left at about noon or so he could get to Alfred’s before four. He could surprise the American by picking him up an early dinner of McDonald’s.

After a quick breakfast of eggs and toast Arthur went to his bedroom to pack for the trip, he didn’t know how long he would stay with Alfred, he never did this time of year. But he would stay as long as Alfred needed him.

Once he was all packed the Englishman proceeded to take a shower and dressed in warm wear, then he hailed a cab to the airport.

The usual procedures of the airport and even the flight itself felt far lengthier than normal, perhaps it was because he was anxious to make sure Alfred was okay, perhaps it was because there had been an even longer than usual pause since in their last face to face meeting, maybe it was both of those things.

When the plane had landed and he had retrieved his bag, Arthur ordered an extremely unhealthy amount of food from a McDonald’s parallel to the airport then he hailed another cab to take him to Alfred’s home.

He was somewhat tired but he could feel an excited static buzzing through his skin. When the cab pulled up to Alfred’s home Arthur paid the cabbie and grabbed his belongings and food from beside him and stepped out of the vehicle into the frosty streets.

The air cut through his clothes and made his flesh prickle, the blonde quickly scurried over to the door of Alfred's home, nearly slipping on the slick layer of snow on the sidewalk, and knocked three times. He lightly bounced on his legs because of both the cold and how happy he was to get to see Alfred again.

After a minute of no one coming to the door he knocked again but louder, he heard a groan from within the house, “you better be the pizza man,” and the shuffling noises of Alfred coming to answer the door.

When the American opened the door Arthur saw his blue eyes light up. “Iggy? What are you doing here?” There was an excited pitch in his voice as he swept the smaller man into a hug.

Arthur laughed and returned the hug awkwardly with his luggage in one hand and the food in the other, “to see you of course, why else would I be here?” He quickly kissed Alfred's cheek. “I know how winter is a troubling season for you and I wanted to help.”

“Ah- yeah..” Alfred's gaze darted away for a moment, “thanks..” He mumbled. “Wait do I smell McDonalds?”

“Maybe,” Arthur pulled away from the hug to hold up the bulging brown bag covered with grease stains.

“This is why I love you,” Alfred excitedly whispered. He took Arthur’s bag from his hands. “Come on, let's go inside, it's freezing out here.”

They went inside and Arthur felt a great chill shake his body, funny how the inside heat of a home could make you realize how cold you really were. The smaller nation was slightly surprised by Alfred, he seemed to be doing alright; but then he caught sight of the American’s sink, it was filled to the brim with dirtied plates and glasses and silverware.

He would have to wash them sometime soon, he shook his thought of the dishes away and directed his attention to Alfred as they walked into his living room.

There was a faded, plush leather couch with pieces chipping off the seats, and a couple of brightly colored bean bags in the corner. A long glass coffee table rested in front of the couch. A TV was mounted on the wall, but it was off. The living room felt desolate of Alfred’s cheery aura and it made Arthur’s stomach grow heavy with dread.

Alfred had put his bag in his room then came back and sat down on the couch, Arthur sat besides him and watched as the bigger man dug around in the greasy brown bag. “How have you been feeling lately?” He asked as he removed his shoes and tucked them neatly under the coffee table.

“Oh well,” Alfred shrugged softly and he stopped his rummaging for a second, “good.” He gave a gentle smile and pulled a burger out of the bag.

Arthur returned the smile. “Well that's good,” but he knew that he was being lied to. Alfred was never one to ask for help from anyone, even when he needed it most. He always tried to hold up his happy-go-lucky, independent facade with a loud laugh and big smiles; but Arthur knew better, he had known the American far too long to be fooled by him anymore.

The smaller blonde moved to hug Alfred, he took in that old scent of gunpowder and lemon furniture polish that he seemed to always smell of and it made his nose crinkle. Alfred returned the hug and kissed the top of Arthur's head and it made him look up. “What were you doing before I got here?” He questioned.

The American who had just finished taking the wrapper off of his burger hesitated for a moment. “Sleeping,” he muttered then took a large bite of his meal.

“I hope you didn't sleep all day,” he plucked a fry from the bag and ate it.

When Alfred made no reply other than slow bites of his food and shifty eyes Arthur sat up. “Oh Al, why didn't you call me?” He asked. “I know how you get, that's why I'm here right now, to help you.”

“I know, I know, I just hate how this makes me feel.. I hate having to be helped, I'm a grown ass man.” Alfred murmured with a sigh, he raked his fingers through his sandy hair.

“Age doesn't determine whether or not you need help,” Arthur said. “This problem was not your choice to have, but it's your choice to get over it each year.”

The American gave a mumbled reply through a mouthful of food, but he nodded all the same. “I guess you're right, but I just wish I could do this on my own,” he said once he had swallowed his food. “I wish I could just go out and live my life, but I can’t. I don’t even want to go outside or even visit my friends anymore.”

Arthur grabbed Alfred’s hand and squeezed it tightly. “You’re such a git sometimes.” He sighed. “You want to get better but you’re always reluctant to accept my help. Fine, don’t label my being here as trying to help you get better, but as just me wanting to be with you because I love you.”

“Fine,” Alfred grumbled through the last of his burger. He returned the squeeze Arthur had given him, and let himself lean against the smaller man. The bag of food between them crinkled noisily. “I love you too,” he said after a moment.

The evening carried on with a better tone than with which it had started, the international couple surprisingly finished off the gross amount of food (though it was Alfred who ate the most of it), and they talked. Although he didn’t understand most of it, Arthur was happy just to sit there and listen to Alfred’s odd rambles about his shows and other things. He was happy to see that Alfred was enjoying speaking to him about the things that he liked.

Though after a while the full force of the timezone change kicked in and Arthur began to feel drowsy. He did his best to hide his yawns and droopy eyes but Alfred saw through him.

“Tired?” Alfred asked, he moved to pull the Englishman into his chest.

“N-No,” Arthur yawned. He weakly struggled against Alfred’s grip, but with a sigh he gave up. “Yes.”

“I knew it,” smiled Alfred, he placed a kiss on Arthur’s head. “C’mon why don’t you go to bed?”

“Because I don’t want to leave you alone.”

“I’ll be fine, Iggy.”

Arthur gave Alfred a serious stare with his tired green eyes, “fine,” he muttered. “I’ll go to bed but only if you promise not to stay up all night, I know you’ve been asleep all day but who knows what you’ll do while I’m out.”

“The amount of trust in me you have is sad,” Alfred rolled his eyes but gave a gentle nod. “But I promise, now let's get you to bed.”

“Fine, fine,” Arthur subtly complained as he removed himself off both Alfred and the couch only to be pulled back down by the American. “Do you want me to go to bed or not?” He snapped angrily.

“I don’t know what you mean,” A grin was on Alfred's lips. “I’m waiting for you to get up.”

Arthur sat on the couch for a moment, suspiciously eyeing Alfred; finally he slowly removed himself up then darted a few steps away from the couch out of Alfred’s reach.

Alfred rose from the couch and motioned for Arthur to lead the way, then he followed him into his own bedroom.

With a soft sigh Arthur shook his head at the state of Alfred’s room, the bed was a complete mess of twisted blankets and covers, and the floor was scattered with clothes and shoes and stuffies and god knows what else. “I guess I can’t go to bed yet,” he muttered, taking in the room and cringing slightly.

“I can clean it up real quick if you'd like,” Alfred suggested with a sheepish shrug at his own mess.

“No, no.” Arthur shook his head and started to pick clothes up off the floor. “I'm here to help you.”

“Are you sure?” He leaned forward to pick up a shirt and Arthur snatched it from his hands.

“I'm sure, now get going before I change my mind.”

With that Alfred left his bedroom and sauntered back into the living room where he plopped down on the couch.

He bit his lip and fell back, laying his head on the arm of the couch and sighed quietly under his breath.

He loved it that Arthur was here, he really truly did but he just felt so anxious and awkward around him now. He felt like he was being coddled like back when he was a young country.

The dirty blond drew his hands over his face and exhaled loudly.

Goddammit why did winter have to be such a pain in the ass? And it wasn't always like this, Alfred could remember back before he even met Arthur.. He had loved the winter and playing in the snow, he and Mattie would do it all the time. Even for a century or two after he was settled by Arthur and Francis’ people, he still enjoyed winter.

Softly the American shook his head to clear his mind about the past. He then focused on the shuffling noises Arthur made in the other room.

Iggy was here and he loved him for that, Alfred knew what a pain he was any other time of the year, let alone how he was now with a big fun sucking feeling cold glued to his back 24/7.

Arthur wasn't the only one who kept tabs on him during the winter months, there was also Mattie (who would just text him more often and invite him over nearly every week for breakfast) and Francis (who would send him pictures of dogs in berets).

Alfred took his hands from his face and through his now greased up glasses he turned to the Mickey Mouse clock on the wall- it was only ten-thirty something or other.

He took off his glasses and made quick work of cleaning them on his shirt, then he slipped them back on and looked around the room. He didn't really know what to do, he wasn't in the mood for much of anything really besides sleeping; and he wasn't even tired.

On the coffee table in front of him, Alfred heard his phone vibrate loudly and he just looked at it and wondered who it could be. He was still looking at it for quite some time after it had vibrated before he reached out and picked it up.

His brother, Mattie's name flashed across his lockscreen with couple of words from a new text. He swiped open his phone to read it.

_ Hey, Al, feel like coming over tomorrow? I’m making pancakes:) _

Alfred chuckled down at his phone screen and lazily typed out a response with one hand.

_ dude u just made pancakes like two days ago I saw it on your IG _

Not a minute passed before Matthew responded.

_ Your point? Come on, I'll even make your favorite chocolate-chip and blueberry ones, even despite how really unhealthy they are _

A gentle smile crept onto the American’s features, Mattie was always trying to make sure that he was alright. Damn he sure acted a lot like Arthur when it came to that.

_ love to bro but Iggys here and i just feel like staying home no ofence _

_ *offense _ , Matthew texted back.  _ But okay then, say hi to him for me!  _

Alfred's finger hovered over his keyboard for a second but he ended up not writing a response instead he just stared at his screen for a moment longer and clicked off his phone. Then he tossed it to the end of the couch.

He looked at his phone and thought of what he could've said to his brother and what he wanted to say to him, but all of that he just didn't know and didn't feel like typing out.

He zoned out looking at his phone and his mind quickly ran to into the scenario of him just talking to Mattie, talking to him about all the things clogged up in his head and everything else he could imagine.

But he blinked and that daydream was gone.

He looked up at the clock and saw that hardly even twenty minutes had passed by. He arched his neck and saw that his bedroom door was now closed and that there was no light visible from the crack under the door. Arthur had probably went to sleep.

Alfred thought about going to sleep too, there wasn't else much to do besides that. He mulled it over. He wanted to go to sleep and to lay down with Arthur and hug him and smell his hair and just hold him close. But, he just wasn't tired.

So on the couch he sat feeling an angry ache in his chest that he caused and that he could easily fix but he couldn't make himself actually get up and fix it. At least not right now, not yet.

He closed his eyes and listened and breathed and tried to clear his mind so he could just go to sleep with Arthur. In this attempt he ended up losing himself to sleep.

When he awoke he awoke with a jump, he quickly sat up and was greeted with a hot pain in his neck from using the armrest as a pillow. His eyes felt heavy and his body cold.

Alfred's eyes traveled up to the clock on the wall again and he cursed the fact that he had lost nearly three hours of time that he could've been sleeping with Arthur.

This finally made him shuffle up and slowly into his bedroom where he did his best his best to be quiet, yet the floorboards groaned beneath his feet with every step he took. Alfred froze, he heard Arthur softly stir.

A gentle sigh left the American and quickly he made the rest of the way to the bed and slipped in besides the smaller nation. Alfred moved to be the big spoon, pulling Arthur into him and wrapping his arms about his waist.

Arthur was warm to hold and Alfred nuzzled his face into his blonde hair. He had missed him so much that it nearly hurt.

A heavy sigh passed his lips and Alfred took off his glasses, then he put them somewhere around the pillows to find in the morning. He closed his eyes and held Arthur close like he might lose him.

***

In the morning when Arthur awoke, he was pressed up against Alfred with his face in his chest. A heat warmed his cheeks and he was glad that the American was asleep so he could not poke fun at it.

He slithered out of Alfred's grip on him and stepped out of the bed with silence. For a moment he just looked at Alfred, he always looked so peaceful when he was asleep. Always Arthur wondered what Alfred dreamed about that left him with such a peaceful expression.

With a yawn the Englishman rummaged through his bag near the wall and removed his toothbrush, then he ducked out of the room and moved to the bathroom to freshen up.

After he had brushed his teeth, Arthur headed to the kitchen, the air inside the room was cool and awakening. He couldn't tell what time it was by the faint light streaming through the window, but he assumed it was fairly early.

His gaze swept over the sink and he sighed quite loudly. “Might as well as get that done,” and Arthur moved over to start the dishes.

***

When Alfred woke up the bed felt cold, he couldn't feel Arthur in his arms and so he sat up to find the bed empty but for himself. With a yawn he stretched his arms above his head and that's when he caught the whiff of something (probably food considering that Arthur was up) burning. 

Alfred rummaged around the top of his bed for his glasses for a while until he had found that they had fallen in between the head of the bed and the wall. He picked them up and blew off the dust and put them on.

He blinked a few times and then slid out of bed, carefully he shuffled into the kitchen, who knew what Iggy was brewing up.

He saw Arthur over the stove with an apron that went below his knees on, and a bunch of brown-black squares on a plate.

“Uh, Igg?” Alfred asked, moving his hand under his glasses to rub the sleep out of his eyes. “What are you doing?”

Arthur turned around, “What does it look like? I'm making you breakfast! The least you could do is thank me,” he huffed.

The American bit his lip and eyed the charred food skeptically. “Thanks but what are you making then?”

“Well,” Arthur said, turning back to the stove. “I know you hate a English-breakfast (I don't know how considering how you'll eat practically anything else) so I made french toast.”

There was a silence between them for a moment, then Alfred just shuffled over to his coffee pot and removed the old grounds. “Iggy, I mean this in the most nice way I can manage.” He took a breath. “That looks like charcoal patties and it's going to do nothing to help my mental state or my poor nutrition.”

“Oh come on!” Arthur spat. “It's not my fault! It's the recipes,  _ french _ toast!  _ French! _ It's that stupid Francis’ fault if anything, not mine!” He picked up one of the pieces of french toast from the plate besides him and bit into it. There was an audible crunch.

“Don't die on me, Ig, I don't want to have to call poison control.”

With an unintelligible reply and a swallow of the french toast Arthur grumbled, “remind me to never again use a recipe from France.”

“Only if you promise that I don't have to eat any of the charcoal patties.”

“Deal.” Arthur then dumped the plate into the trash while mumbling, “It's the recipe not my cooking skills.”

A gentle smile lifted at Alfred's lips. “Thanks for trying though, I'm sure if it was a different recipe it would have turned out great.”

“Thank you Al, but I wanted to make you something,” Arthur ran his fingers through his hair. “Now what are we going to do for breakfast?”

“Well- Matt did invite me over for pancakes today,” Alfred shrugged softly. “We could always do that.”

“That boy really does have a problem with those things, what's with you two and unhealthy foods?”

Alfred looked at him and gave a large, unsure shrug.

Arthur stared at him for a moment then sighed. “Fine, I suppose we can go.”

Alfred’s smile grew and he took a step forward to hug Arthur. “Great.”

Arthur returned the hug and then kissed Alfred. “Now go get ready, you're not going in your jams.”

“Aw but it's breakfast time, Ig! So that means PJ time!”

“I'm not going on a public plane with you in your jams, Alfred.”

Long story short, Arthur got what he wanted. They did not fly on a public airline to Canada, but instead a private jet that Alfred got the president to send out to them.

They went to Matthew's with Alfred in his jams and feeling much better than he had the previous day.

And it just made Alfred feel grateful for Arthur and Mattie. Without them he'd be a bigger mess than he already was.

He had no doubts that he could make it through the winter months with their help.

**Author's Note:**

> Honestly it was a little tough to write this since it's way longer than my usual stuff, but I'm really proud of it.


End file.
